Trebek is Old
by DanceBurn
Summary: Michael forces the employees to participate in a Jeopardy game based upon the branch. Later, Pam conducts one of her own with Jim.


Trebek is Old

Summary: Michael forces the employees to participate in a Jeopardy game based upon the branch. Later, Pam conducts one of her own with Jim.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I do not own The Office. I'd like to, but sadly it is not so.

"What, are you too scared?"

A laugh echoed from her chest as she shielded her eyes with her palm. "No, of course not."

"Then what is it?"

There was silence until she giggled again, hunching over.

"Come on Beesly, you _know_ you want to do it."

"Oh, now I don't give into peer pressure."

"Where is there pressure?"

"You. You're giving me pressure."

Jim's eyebrows lifted as he pointed his finger. "Oh, I do plenty of things. Charm. Excite. But I do not pressure."

She looked up at him then, studying his face. It was true, he did not pressure. But sometimes she wished he did. Just one little push, then maybe…

The last thought dropped from her mind as she smirked at him once again.

"Okay. I will. On one condition."

"And what might that be?" his smile widened.

"That you win this game, Mr. Halpert."

* * *

Michael faced the camera in his office as he rambled on. 

"Some…executives want to go over the employers with a fine-toothed comb and see to it that everyone knows their Dunder Mifflin paper facts. They just told me to send out a memo to outline sales protocols and all that jazz, but why should I, as a boss, subject my employees to such boring…ness?" Michael's eyes became wide as he looked at the camera for approval. He then clapped his hands together and rested them on his desk. "So, here's what I decided to do. Jeopardy. Everyone loves Jeopardy. Except for that Alex guy. He's….old."

* * *

"Michael chose me to help him out with the questions for Jeopardy, since he doesn't even really know anything about paper," Pam told the camera. "And for some reason, me being a receptionist, he thinks I do." 

Pam scrunched up her face, as if calling Michael an idiot. "Anyway, I've enlisted Jim to help. He knows everything, he would be the best salesman here if Dwight wasn't such a…well, you know." Pam waved her hand off to complete her sentence, and stayed silent as to review what she just said.

* * *

"We need five categories, so I was thinking maybe, 'How to Make a Sale', 'Spreadsheets and Office Protocols', 'Company Branches', 'Paper History', and like… 'Types of Paper', but really, how many questions could I make about paper?" 

Jim set down his coffee and prepared to correct Pam. "Actually, there's so many different types of paper we sell. Bond paper, bristol, enamel…"

Pam smirked. "Really now? What's Bristol paper?"

"I'm so glad you asked…it's kind of like a board, people use it for post or business cards. It sells pretty well; it actually sold about thirteen percent more last year than—"

He stopped.

"You're mocking me."

"What? No. No, I'm not."

Jim laughed. "I can't believe I was about to give you a full-blown speech on Bristol paper."

Pam giggled. "Well, I _was_ researching. Anyway, I was thinking that since you wanted some of the questions rigged, we could pick the lower points since no one is going to know the answers to the real questions...so these would be like the five-hundred pointers."

"You mean the questions to the answers."

"What?" Pam's eyes narrowed.

"By gum, you have no idea how Jeopardy works. You're supposed to put the answers down, and the contestants give you the question."

"Yeah. Right. I know that."

"And I would, apparently, know the questions since—"

"You almost lectured me on business card paper."

"Exactly."

A smile took over Pam's face as she resisted the urge to tease Jim. He smiled back, though differently. She couldn't point her finger on the exact difference, but she knew it was there, because suddenly he was at the counter emptying his mug and saying his goodbyes. The break room door colored the room grey as it closed.

* * *

"_Uggggggggh!_" Michael whined, slamming the papers on his desk. Pam watched from across him, hands clasped in front of her. 

"You don't like them?"

"No. They're just fine," Michael said with an attitude.

Pam began to walk out, not caring in the slightest bit. "Okay, in that case I'll—"

"It's just so boring!"

She stopped. "Boring."

"Yes. Everyone will be put to sleep. I mean, 'The inventor of chemical pulp,' who would even _want _to know this?"

"It's just that….there's only so many categories and questions you can make about a Pennsylvanian paper sales company." Pam said meekly.

"Yeah but…" Michael rested his head in his hands, squinting at the list of questions before him. "Ugh, I just want something fun."

Pam nodded.

"Thanks…anyway. I'll just make up the questions myself."

"Are you serious? I spent two hours—"

"Thanks Pam, you're dis-_missed_!" Michael finished quickly so he wouldn't hear the rest of her tantrum. Pam walked out in a slight huff, going back to her desk. He then turned to the camera. "Jeopardy is a game, and games are supposed to be fun."

* * *

"Michael destroyed our evil plan." 

"No, he didn't. We just have to be more creative. Think outside the box. Think MacGyver," Jim said.

"I could just steal his work and re-type some of the questions."

They both laughed.

"Well, if you wanted to be all level-headed about it," Jim quipped, straightening up from his hunched stance at the reception desk. Michael came out of the office, scanning the room.

"I…" he began slowly, "I need an assistant. A Vanna."

"Angela should be Vanna. She's blonde," Kevin said slowly, grinning all the while.

"She…" Michael thought. "Is too much of a tight-ass. I'm sticking by my Miss Pammykins. Miss Friendly-face. On second thought, we could have Ryan…"

"I'll be Vanna!"

Michael ignored Dwight.

"Since when is Vanna even on Jeopardy?" Oscar asked.

"What do I have to do?" Pam questioned, droopy-eyed from reception.

"Take the cards off the board whenever someone picks the category. Assist me whenever I need…assistance. Look hot." Michael shrugged. "All that good stuff."

Pam rolled her eyes.

* * *

The Jeopardy game was held in the board room during the last hour of the work day. The Dunder Mifflin employees filed in, thinking five o' clock couldn't come fast enough. 

Michael came out to the little podium he had stolen from the community room downstairs, wearing a gaudy blue blazer he picked up at a flea market during his lunch break. He, not surprisingly, held a big goofy grin on his face as he scanned the room.

In front of him was a long table that sat Dwight, Phyllis, Jim, Oscar and Kevin. Stanley and Angela sat at a small table near the front of the room, in charge of keeping score. Meredith, Ryan, and Toby were M.I.A. The buzzers in front of the contestants were each different, emitting distinct animal sounds so that Michael could easily tell who buzzed in first. Dwight's buzzer belted out a lion's roar. Phyllis was a house cat, Jim a dog, Oscar a bird singing (oh how well the animal compared to himself), and Kevin a…cow. Courtesy of Michael.

"Welcome, ladies and gents, to Dunder Mifflin's own version of Jeopardy. As you all know I am Michael Scott, your boss, and I will be conducting this little game here. Just picture me as a younger, handsomer, and much funnier Alex Trebek."

Only Dwight gave appraisal.

"Uh, anyway, you know the rules. Buzz in when you know the answer, and I will only accept it in the form of an answer…or question. Or gah, you know, let's just get to it," finished a flustered Michael. "Categories are,"

Pam pointed to each category as Michael spoke.

"Get 'Er Done, Historical Happenings, Boring Paper Facts, Meet the Cast and," Michael squinted at his sheet. "Potent….potent potables."

Pam looked over to Jim, who also found his pronunciation, potent pot-tables, rather amusing. Apparently Trebek dedicated a category to tables full of strong marijuana.

"Uh, Michael, what do these categories even mean? 'Get 'er Done?'"

"Ah…silly man," a glance to Oscar then to the camera, "Of course you can see it means how to make a sale. You know, get 'er done, get the…sale…done." He lost enthusiasm with every word.

Oscar shifted his focus back to the table's surface. Silence.

"Anyway, first round is 100 to 500 points a question. First person who buzzes when I say 'Now!' begins the game." Michael smiled and looked at the contestants. He teased them for about a minute, beginning to say the word then stopping.

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of—"

"NOW!"

Dwight was first. And with much excitement. Jim held a look of annoyance and guilt as he glanced at Pam, who waved her finger in a tsk-tsk fashion.

"Dwight," Michael sighed. "Pick a category."

"_Get 'er Doooooone!_" Dwight shouted, smiling like an idiot. Jim wanted to kill him. Michael frowned, his joke no longer appealing.

"What number, Dwight?" Pam asked from the board.

"Five hundred points. Probably easy as cake."

* * *

The fourth question was Meet the Cast for 100, chosen sweetly by Phyllis. Knowing Michael, however, it was most likely a raunchy question about the employees. 

As Pam took the 100 point card off the board, Michael read the question from his stack of papers.

"Name the person…who goes home every night to a burning pile of papers rejecting office outings than to his own _wife!_" Michael heaved over at the last word, almost breaking up into full laughter.

Pam cringed. Jim and Phyllis and Angela and—

Everyone but Dwight cringed. They were thankful for Toby not being there.

No contestant wanted to answer, and Dwight was dumbfounded just enough to not attack the buzzer at first chance.

"Come on! We're all friends here," Michael said. He was met with harsh looks.

A lion's roar erupted from the table.

"Who is Toby?" Dwight asked.

Michael pointed his finger. "That is right! One hundred points to Dwight, along with another question."

"Historical happenings for 500."

Michael read his paper and chuckled. "Oh, I remember this one." He coughed, straightening up. "The event, and year of, that Angela let slip a _curse_ word!"

The camera zoomed in on Angela's face, tight and annoyed. Michael just laughed.

"_Moooo!_" screamed Kevin's buzzer.

"Kevin?"

"The 2003 spring bake sale?"

"Wrong!"

A lion roared.

"_What is_ the 2003 spring bake sale?"

"Right, 500 points to Dwight!"

Kevin sat, confused of his wrongdoing until Oscar explained.

"Oh, shoot…"

"Dwight, as always, you may go again."

"Meet the Cast, 500."

Pam let out a big grin at this one, shaking her head side to side. Michael, not remembering what he wrote in the first place, blurted out the question. "The TV show Dwight watches with his mom every night before bedtime."

Oscar laughed softly, as Dwight's eyebrows furrowed. Was Michael talking about _Battlestar Galactica_?

A dog barked.

"Jim-bo! First time to hear from you!"

"What is _Queer as Folk_?"

Pam cradled her cheek with her palm, embarrassed by the absurdity.

Michael squinted at the paper before him. "Um…that's. That's right, Jim, for five hundred points."

"_Hey!_"

"You may pick a category."

Dwight crossed his arms, outraged, while Jim stuck his jaw out playfully as he watched Pam. His focus then switched over to Michael. "Meet the Cast, Alex, for 300." This question he had picked randomly, saving the other fake, Dwight-embarrassing ones for later.

"Ah, pansy!" Dwight called out when the highest question left in the category, the 400 pointer, went ignored.

"What is Pam's favorite game?"

Immediately a barking was heard as Pam blushed.

"Jim."

"What is Sudoku, Alex?"

"Correct, my dear friend," Michael said, glancing at the camera with a pleased expression. "You may pick again."

* * *

It was the final round, and it couldn't have come soon enough for the employees. Questions had ranged from how to deal with a Middle Eastern customer (God Bless Michael's soul), to the type of buff-colored paper that was used to make envelopes and file folders, to how many shots Todd Packer downed at the 2005 Christmas party. Dwight was leading with 2,400 points, but Jim was close in second with 2,100. 

"All right, final round and the category is 'Bosses'. Please write your wager down."

Michael took a few seconds for the five contestants to contemplate and write their bid until he continued. "Okay, the question is…" he did the drum roll, "_The best boss in the world. _Ready, set, go, you have thirty seconds."

Jim and Phyllis looked at each other incredulously as Michael hummed the Jeopardy theme. Pam rolled her eyes.

Jim leaned over to see Dwight's paper, who then covered it in malice. "Are you peeking?"

"No, I'm not peeking. I just want to see your answer."

"Cheating is strictly forbidden."

Jim leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I don't think cheating is needed at this point in time."

Thirty seconds and five answers later, Michael stopped humming and walked toward the table.

"Okay contestants, let's reveal your answers. Dwight, you're first."

Dwight handed him his paper, and in return Michael let out a goofy grin.

"Who is Michael Scott...and you wagered…your entire amount so that puts you at…" Michael's eyes rolled up as if counting. Jim shook his head. "A very, very large number."

"4,800," Dwight said.

"Thank you, mathematician," Michael snorted.

"I won! No one could wager more than the amount they had left, and I was leading before."

Michael's lips pursed. "Yes…Dwight. You are the winner. Congrats, congrats, let's see who gets second place. Jim?"

Michael picked up Jim's paper, and in response his eyes furrowed.

"It's blank."

"I was at a loss."

First, he was offended, but then…Michael grinned. The same grin he would let out right before saying something he shouldn't. "I'm surprised you didn't put Pam down, she sure seems to be a boss for you! The boss of your heeeaaart!" Doubling over from his own joke, he patted Jim on the shoulder. "Am I right, or what?"

Jim let out a breath. Everyone's eyes seemed to burn into his skull.

"No, I don't think so—"

"Let's see what you wagered here…" Michael scanned down the paper. "1,672 and a half points?" He looked around "That's so…precise. Anyone have a calculator?"

Jim, no longer in the mood to play Jeopardy, snapped, "You can just go to Phyllis now. I'm sure everyone else has me beat."

And because of Jim's reduced score, they did. Phyllis, Oscar, and Kevin all put down "Michael Scott", though their minds were thinking the exact opposite. They knew they would get flack if they didn't write what Michael wanted.

"Okay, winner is Dwight, of course," Michael said with his eyes lifted, disgruntled. "Second place goes to Oscar, third Phyllis. Good game everyone. Excellent job."

The co-workers began filing out, Pam in a hurry to leave with the crowd. Jim stayed behind for a bit, then flew out of his seat and rushed to walk Pam to her car. He wouldn't let things get awkward when they had just gotten their connection back. He caught up with her at the elevator.

Pulling his messenger bag around him, "Rough game, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, Dwight won even though we rigged five of the questions."

"Yeah, but those were the low pointers."

Pam smiled. "True, true." She tucked a strand of a hair behind her ear as they boarded the elevator. "You held your own until the final round."

Jim half smiled and half cringed. "Yeah…the final question was a toughie, though. Best boss? Maybe I should have put Donald Trump, or something."

Pam let out a laugh. "Michael would have thrown a fit."

Jim laughed with her. Neither spoke until the final 'ding' of the elevator.

"That game was…bad. Just bad," Jim commented, dragging out the last word. "Embarrassing questions about the entire office. Who would have thought Michael would come up with such humiliation?"

Pam shook her head as the elevator door opened. "I'm just glad only one question was about me."

Jim looked at Pam, and then off to the side, scoffing. "Naw, it would have been better if all the questions were about you. Then I would have won."

"Should I be worried?" Pam asked jokingly. Jim chuckled.

"Of course not. I'm just saying, who knows you better, me or Dwight?"

"Point taken."

"Exactly."

They were both nearing the parking lot now, but stopped once in between each other's cars.

"So, Halpert thinks he knows me."

"No…but I would kill at Beesly Jeopardy. Favorite yogurt? Got that down. And your favorite game, obviously."

Pam smirked. "All right, pick a category."

Jim's face masked over with confusion. "What exactly are the categories?"

"Just make one up."

Jim's smile widened as his eyes looked off to the right, suddenly nervous. "All right, Ms. Trebek. Beesly Pets for 500."

Pam thought for a few moments, tapping her foot. "Oh! I got it. The bird, for which I loved so dearly, that got out and destroyed my room when I was eleven."

Jim laughed, his eyes nearly popping out. "Pinkster? Pinkster did that?"

Pam's eyes matched Jim's. She laughed, incredulous. "You actually remember me telling you about Pinkster? I told you about that bird over, like, a year ago!"

Jim shrugged. "I remember what's important to you."

Her face changed.

Suddenly he regretted ever saying anything.

He fidgeted nervously, forcing a smile. "Friends are important to me."

Pam's voice was soft when she responded. "Yeah. Friends are important to me too."

When she looked up at him then, he wanted to die. Her eyes were glazed over. With tears? He didn't know what. But at that moment, all of the world crumbled away but her. Her eyes. Her lips. The light movement of her chest that gradually became faster. It was another one of those _moments_. Where neither one of them could make a sound.

"Final round of Beesly Jeopardy?" she managed to breathe out. "Category is the Workplace."

"I wager it all."

"You sure about that, Halpert?"

Realizing his gaze never left her lips, he looked back into her eyes. "Very."

She let out a sweet smile then, and there he knew the moment was gone. The friends-only atmosphere came rushing back at full force.

"The one person during my workday that stops me from head butting my computer screen and strangling Dwight."

Jim thinned out his lips as if thinking. "Hmm. I'm going to guess Michael on that one."

Pam's head fell back as she laughed, eyes rolling. "And on that note, I'm going to get into my car and drive far away from here."

Jim nodded, shoving his hands in his coat pockets as Pam opened her car door. She turned around at the last moment, hands tapping the top of the door.

"Are we on for Halpert Jeopardy tomorrow?"

Jim grinned. "Oh, definitely."

**FIN **

**A/N: **Love? Hate? It was my first Office fic, so let me know!**  
**


End file.
